BERWALD OXENSTIERNA'S POINT OF VIEW

Ka-thunk, Ka-thunk...

The train compartment was empty, save for one tall, intimidating Swede. He had sandy blond hair and behind the glasses blue eyes that seemed to attempt to set fire on everything they saw with their intense stare. Only, right now the Duke's eyes were filled with a rare tenderness. It wasn't because of the book he had received to entertain himself while travelling from the country's southern tip back to the city, for the book lay forgotten beside him. He had made an honest attempt to read it, but it couldn't catch and keep his attention for too long. His mind kept wandering towards the city he was travelling to – or rather, a woman, proud, strong and fair, to Tiina Väinamöinen.
She herself had been opposed to the engagement, but her father had 'convinced' her it was the right thing.
Berwald couldn't help himself; he had to smile as he remembered Tiina, arguing loudly with her father in Finnish. Berwald couldn't be sure, he didn't speak the at once ridiculously hard but melodious language, but judging by the tone there had probably been several swear-words involved – from both sides.
Berwald could see too well that Tiina didn't love him (it was probably closer to 'hate'), but he wouldn't give up. A marriage would be beneficial to the Väinamöinens, and Berwald really did love Tiina. It would be good for the both of us, Berwald thought, convinced that he was right. I just need to get her to realize it, too.

IVAN BRAGINSKI'S POINT OF VIEW

A month had passed since Ivan first met Tiina, and they had continued to have coffee together, with or without Eduard.
The first week Ivan had only dared to go twice, when he had letters to deliver. He was invited in both times, and after the second time they all called each other by their given names (Ivan only did this after they started calling him 'Ivan', he had still been a bit nervous about the episode with the knife).
The following two weeks Ivan found out more about the other two than he had ever cared to know, and Ivan also shared some of his happier childhood memories from Russia.
The fourth week the lady and her servant surprised the messenger by appearing in his own flat one noon. Ivan was greatly embarrassed at first; he only had what was strictly necessary furniture-wise, and the three coffee mugs he could provide were from three different sets that didn't even remotely resemble each other. The coffee was cheap, and since he hadn't been expecting guests he could only offer buttered bread along-side it.
When Tiina accepted this without so much as giving the frugal meal (if you could even call it that) an odd look, Ivan could almost feel tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. When Eduard gave him a understanding, reassuring smile Ivan had had to turn his back towards them and cut up some more bread (and discreetly wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt).
Ah, yes, Eduard. He and Ivan became the best of friends, and Ivan would help Eduard with the daily purchases and other chores, because although Eduard liked his role as Tiina's servant, doing everything by himself was a bit too much. Eduard didn't quite agree on this point, and initially politely refused Ivan's help, but when Tiina threatened to start doing more than just cooking on her own Eduard quickly changed his mind.

"Tiina is great," he told Ivan while comparing two brands of soap, "and her cooking is too, which is why I let her cook instead of insisting we hire a chef – that, and she would probably go mad with boredom – but she should be kept far away from all other kinds of household activities, especially cleaning. God only knows how she did it, but with the help of some chemicals and my little brother, Raivis, she managed to blow up the servant's quarter. It was all blamed on little Raivis though; he didn't know enough Finnish to defend himself, so they sent him to some of our relatives in Latvia."

Ivan paled a little, and Eduard laughed.

"Don't worry, they made sure no one was in there before they blew it up. The servants had been trying to negotiate for some new furniture, but Väinamöinen-Herra said that as long as the old pieces were still whole he wouldn't buy anything new. Tiina just decided to speed up the process."

Ivan nodded, he still didn't quite see the humor in it, but at least Tiina had had good intentions.
Eduard finally settled on a brand of soap, and after negotiating the prices he paid, and with their arms full of bags and packages, the two men walked back to the house where Ivan had first met the other two.

BERWALD OXENSTIERNA'S POINT OF VIEW

Berwald was met with ice-cold contempt, badly hidden behind a politely smiling mask, from the woman he loved the most. He sat with a cup of tea that was - with some imagination - luke-warm, in the least comfortable sofa that Tiina had asked (read: ordered) him to make himself (un)comfortable in.
Although it peeved him to be treated with such hostility and impertinence in his own house (it was one of his smaller properties, before it was decided that Tiina would live there it had been used mainly as a place to rest before he travelled further) and although any other woman that dared treat him like that would have been punished – directly or indirectly – Berwald let Tiina do as she pleased. He had early come to understand that Tiina Väinamöinen would not come to love him that way (that, and he didn't want her blowing up a perfectly functional house, small or not).
As Berwald calmly pretended to be enjoying his tea – which tasted awful – Tiina's patience ran out, and, muttering something in Finnish, stomped her way back into the kitchen in a very unladylike way.
Berwald smiled for the second time that day, which was only one time too little for a personal record. However, the smile was quickly wiped off his face as knocks sounded, a rapid rapping on the front door. He frowned, who could be coming at this hour? Then he reminded himself that the back door was inaccessible since a long time back, the alley had been blocked by a crumbled wall that no one had bothered to clear away, and that it probably just was that servant returning.
Berwald pulled himself up to his full height and went to answer the door. It was his house, after all.
He was relieved to find that the person behind the door was indeed the servant, almost disappearing behind all that he had purchased, the Estonian was the only one who could calm the Finnish fury.

"Duke Oxenstierna!" Eduard's eyes widened in surprise behind a bag of vegetables. "How… Unexpected…"

Berwald frowned again. "S'nt a lettah."

"You did?" The Estonian glanced away, chuckling nervously.

Following the shorter man's gaze, Berwald finally noticed the other man, who was staring rather openly at him with purple eyes (in a way they reminded him a bit about Tiina, but they were a darker shade and filled with a naivety that would never fill hers). Judging by the man's simple clothing he was probably a servant too.

"Who's 'at?" The Duke's truncated way of speaking always surprised people the first time he met them. It wasn't something he could help, as a child he had been forced to play with his Danish cousin, Mathias, and Mathias had slight anger management issues. They weren't enemies, but as children they couldn't stand each other (except when they met that albino Prussian and his 'Bruder', at those times they'd join forces and kick rear body parts). The last time Berwald and Mathias met as children Mathias left with a broken arm, and Berwald left with a little less tongue.

"Oh, um… This is my friend, Ivan Braginski," Eduard smiled nervously. Ivan hurriedly made an awkward bow, the bags in his arms kept him from bending over too far. "He kindly helped me carry what I bought."

Berwald nodded, and realized he was blocking the door. He stepped aside, and as Ivan walked past Berwald noticed that the other man actually was taller than him. Berwald also noticed that Ivan seemed to know the house – Berwald's house – very well; at least the lower floor. And, above all, Berwald noticed that Tiina, having just exited the kitchen, blessed Ivan with a genuine smile, that seemed a little different than the one she'd give Eduard.

"Ivan!" Berwald froze. She used the man's given name.

"Good afternoon, Tii –" Berwald saw ivan glancing at him, and the Russian quickly corrected himself. "Ms. Väinamöinen."

That's it, Berwald decided.

Drama! :O
Sorry this took so long, I didn't have my laptop, and of course that's where this chapter lay, unfinished and depressed. After the next chapter there will be a surprising turn of events..! Look forward to it! :D